


get some rest.

by serenlty



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: 3rd year Mao, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Graduation, uhh mao's sister is mai like mai anjo from engirls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12057339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenlty/pseuds/serenlty
Summary: in which Mao needs to be told to take care of himself, and only one person is up for the job.





	get some rest.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO this has been in my google drive for like 3 weeks and ive been too lazy to post orz  
> it's in the tags but i'll say it here again!!! i'm using the little trope of mai anjo being mao's sister for conveniences sake because she doesn't have a name in canon and i need this in my life ok thanks

“Oniichan, hello?” Mai knocks on the door frame to her brothers room, standing in the doorway as the door opens in front of her. Mao looks over his shoulder from where he’s been studying for the last-he’s not really sure how many hours it’s been. His response is a half-muffled yawn stretching his arms up as he turns to face his sister.

“You should take a break,” she suggests, her voice gentle. Mao’s in his third year now, and the workload is unlike anything he’s ever seen. Mai is half convinced that he doesn’t actually sleep at home, he just naps during lunch breaks at school. He’s been coming home more, which is nice, but he’s always working when he does-hunched over some textbook or proposal or working on things for his unit.

“I’m almost done,” he insists, looking back at the book he’s been taking notes from. There’s only a few pages left in the chapter, and tomorrow’s Sunday, so there isn’t really a rush to get to sleep.

“Bed. Now.” Mai demands. “Or I will call Keito-san and make him come to our house and cuddle you until you fall asleep.” She waves her hand angrily, and her phone glints threateningly in the yellowed, artificial light of Mao’s lamp. Mao sighs, knowing this is a disagreement he won’t win-Mai has threatened this before, and once before, she’s actually called Keito Hasumi at some god-awful hour and yelled at him until the came to the Isara home and put Mao to bed. Mao doesn’t want to think of the lecture that Keito will give him if it happens again-Keito wants Mao to take care of himself, Mao knows that, but it’s easy to get lost in his work once he starts. Besides, Keito is busy with school too, and it’s rude to wake him up in the middle of the night like that.

“Okay, okay, I’ll sleep. What time is it, anyways?” The shades in Mao’s room have been drawn the entire night-it could be well into the morning, for all he knows.

“It’s after 4,” Mai sighs, walking over to Mao’s desk and closing the book in front of him, marking it with the pencil he’s been writing with. She lightly cuffs her brother in the back of the head with a frustrated expression, staring down at him. “You need to take better care of yourself. Goodnight.”

Mao watches as she leaves the room-quietly, their parents are still sleeping, rubbing the spot on the back of his head where Mai hit him. She thinks he’s going to bed anyways, so she probably won’t come back....his attention turns back to the book in front of him. He’s so close to finishing the chapter, it’ll probably bother him enough to not sleep if he doesn’t get it over with now…

Whispering an apology to his sister, Mao quietly opens the book again, making sure the pages don’t rustle and make any loud noises, and that the hard cover doesn’t slam against the top of his desk. In the distance, he hears the soft sound of someone walking downstairs-if Mai’s going to stay awake, isn’t that kind of hypocritical of her? Mao shakes the stiffness out of his hand, from all of the writing he’s already done, and turns back to his notes. His eyes are heavy, and he really hopes that whatever he’s written will be legible come morning. Unfortunately, so true to his nature, Mao gets so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t realize he’s gone past just the one chapter he intended to finish. His eyes hurt at this point, from reading line after line after line of the fine-print textbook, but it might just be worth it-the work is almost done, with only a small price to pay of some lost sleep.

“Isara.”

Mao jumps in his seat and spins around, slamming the book closed. Has he fallen asleep and started dreaming? Keito is standing in his doorway, looking so un-Keito that it doesn’t seem right. Keito doesn’t wear sweatpants or oversized t-shirts under winter jackets, but Keito does look down at Mao with an exasperated look from behind his glasses, his short hair still in a mess and suggesting he’s hurried here. His face is flushed from the cold weather outside, and he rolls his eyes as he closes the door to Mao’s room and approaches Mao, practically tearing the pencil out of his hand.

“Your sister called me. Again, really? Isara, I know you have work to do, I understand that, but you can’t compromise your health or your workload will only feel heavier. Do you hear me?” The sound of disappointment, so heavy and prevalent in Keito’s voice, makes Mao sigh, a bolt of guilt striking him.

“Sorry…” he starts. “For waking you up. Again.” 

Keito laughs a little, clearly almost as tired as Mao is, and eyes the covered windows. “It’s alright, but could you pick a better day to do this? The roads aren’t very safe right now, and I have to drive here.” He lifts the blind a little bit to reveal that the weather outside is practically a blizzard. If Keito was willing to drive in dangerous conditions for me, I should do what he’s asking, Mao tells himself, although he wouldn’t disobey Keito’s wishes even under normal circumstances.

“If you need to stay tonight..I don’t think my parents would mind. They like you enough.” In fact, Mao’s parents might as well like Keito more than they like their own son, at this rate.

“I don’t really have a choice, but thank you for the hospitality,” Keito smiles, a small but genuine expression. “You need to sleep, Isara. It’s almost six in the morning.” Mao nods, words hidden behind a rather large yawn that he doesn’t bother hiding. Hearing how late it’s gotten only makes him feel more exhausted.

At least he’s not still in his uniform, Mao thinks, when he ultimately gives up and falls onto his futon. It’s still messy from the last time he slept in it, but he really can’t be bothered to fix the mess when he’s this tired. Keito wordlessly drapes his jacket over the back of Mao’s chair before joining the other, and Mao finds himself immediately moving as close Keito as he can. Admittedly, he misses Keito. A lot. He misses getting to see him everyday, the nights where they’d stay late and work together into the morning, the comfortable silence only broken by the sounds of quick questions or a water bottle opening and the gentle scratch of pencils and pens on paper. 

Mostly, though, he’s missed Keito’s physical presence. How warm he always is, the way he smells vaguely like incense (which at first, used to bother Mao--now it just comforts him), how gentle he always is with Mao when he takes Mao’s hand or runs his own through Mao’s hair. The way Keito always seems to know when something’s wrong without Mao even having to say a word. Like now.

“You’re stressed.” It’s not a question or an observation, it’s a fact. One Mao really can’t argue with, and nods in silent confirmation. Keito’s glasses aren’t on his head anymore, and Mao wonders if Keito could even see the motion until Keito’s hand finds one of his, the other draping over Mao. 

“You know...school, stuff…” Mao sighs. Part of him is still anxious to finish that damned reading, the other part of him that he’s really trying so hard to suppress right now. His hand curls a little tighter around Keito’s, his head falling forward and nudging Keito’s chest, the fabric of his shirt soft against Mao’s forehead. He’s grown used to acting like the leader, in front of the new first years that all seem to look up to Trickstar, the academy’s new number one. With Eichi gone, too, he’s the figurehead of the school-it’s a lot of responsibility. It’s not that Mao doesn’t want it, or can’t handle it, of course, but it does get a bit...numbing. Maybe it’s because that cold numbness is suddenly melted by Keito’s warm presence, but Mao can feel the cracks starting to form in that confident, everything-is-going-fine person of his. He clears his throat, trying to keep the emotions from piling up there, but it doesn’t really work-he closes his eyes tight, willing the stress and the fears and the anxieties to go away, to shut up and leave him and Keito alone.

That, also, does not work-pleasing everyone is exhausting, he never has time to take care of himself anymore. Mai’s told him that, and he knows she’s right-she’d warned him that all of these all-nighters would get to him-yet he still hadn’t listened because I pulled through last year and who says I can’t do it again?

“I’m just a little depressed, I guess. Is that too strong a word? Maybe I’m just a little down.” he finally admits with a tired half-laugh, half-cry. His eyes are watering behind closed lids, the floodgates threatening to shatter at any moment. Keito can tell, he knows, because Keito’s hand rubs soft circles on his back, not saying anything, but there’s an unspoken connotation of his actions, telling Mao to let it out.

“I’m tired,” Mao whispers, barely audible. It feels stupid, pathetic, to be so upset over everyday life, things he's signed himself up for no less, but it’s far too late to stop those feelings. He can’t help but wonder, did this ever happen to Keito? The strong, composed upperclassman who Mao admires and looks up to so much-did he ever get knocked down like this? Did he ever have a night alone like this, wondering why the hell he’s doing so much for so many others? If he didn't--how? How is Mao the only one cracking under this pressure he's faced with? Mao didn't know Keito well during Keito’s second year, but he couldn't have been any less of a hard worker than he was during his third, right? The thought of that makes Mao even more upset, his free arm reaching under Keito’s to give him some semblance of a hug.

“You’re strong, Isara,” Keito says quietly. It’s an odd choice of words, Mao thinks, because he’s the one crying right now. “You’re doing very well. Your sister makes sure to keep me updated on all of your accomplishments.” Mao nods, still not pulling away from Keito. His cheeks and nose feel gross and warm, his lip hurts where he’s biting on it to muffle the pathetic crying noises that want to escape.

“You can do this, I believe that much. Four months, and this will all be over.” Keito runs a finger under one of Mao’s eyes, and Mao nods, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I understand that it’s not easy, but you’re helping people. Isn’t that what you want to do? Besides, you know you’re not alone. Just like you would help me, there are others who will help you. I wouldn’t trust that incorrigible idiot who loves shiny things with big responsibilities, but you know the rest of Trickstar supports you. Maybe, if you needed it enough, Sakuma’s younger brother would lend you a hand. And, you always have me.”

Mao takes a deep breath, nodding, feeling the tears start to come to a halt. Keito’s words are true, he knows it-he’s just been too worried about burdening those around him, chasing them away, that he hasn’t paid enough attention to the burden on himself. He’d told himself it before--just keep everyone happy and they won’t use you, they won’t throw you away.

“You’ve got people cheering for you, Isara. Don’t forget that.”

“I love you.”

The two phrases come out at the same time, but if Keito’s confused Huh? Is any indication, he didn’t hear Mao. Mao pulls his head away from Keito’s chest, using one hand to wipe under his eyes and the other to prop himself up a little bit and get more comfortable. Then, when he’s finally nestled against Keito again, he repeats the phrase, a bit of a laugh in his words.

“I know you do, Isara,” Keito says, and even though his room is too dark to see, Mao can tell from his voice that Keito has a small smile on his face. “But remember that I love you too.”

“How could I forget?” Mao asks, the cold hurt from before rapidly draining from his mind. Suddenly, everything is warmer and brighter, and it’s not just the clouded daylight that begins to poke through the drawn curtains in his room. As simple as it was, he really had forgotten how much support there was around him. In the literal sense, but the physical sense as well-for Keito’s arms are warm around him, making him feel safe and comforted and reassuring him that not everything has to be done alone. He’s already worked so hard to build his future, his unit, his friendships and his position on the Student Council, that others are going to be more than willing to decorate the little intricacies of his life.

“Sleep well, Mao,” Keito mumbles, pressing his lips to Mao’s forehead. The name change slips out before Keito thinks about it, but Mao doesn't seem to be bothered by it. 

“You too, Keito.”

He should get Mao to call him Keito more often, Keito muses, drifting off into sleep. Mao is warm against him, his breathing slow and alerting Keito to the slightly alarming fact that Mao pretty much fell asleep instantly. Well, it would be alarming, but Mao is smiling in his sleep, and Keito can’t think of anything bad about that.

**Author's Note:**

> they're so gay  
> thank you for reading!  
> hmu for mao isara crytyping 24/7 @maolovemaii


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